ankle deep

under the lip of a cloud

Mon, 29 Sep 2003 00:23:15 GMT

i stood on the porch last night after getting home from the restaurant at about 2 am. i watched the sky empty its belly and a word came to mind...fuckery. this morning i arose after too little sleep with a familiar headache. caffeine deprivation syndrome. as i fiddled with the kettle i prepared to look out upon a boggy yard. to my relief, the overnight rains had filtered into the ground and the sun was trying to get around the clouds. good old sol. a quick pint of coffee later, i was under way. i footed it downtown to victoria park, a lovely setting with century trees and green expanses surrounding a large pond. or perhaps it is a small lake, a lakelette. whatever, a scenic body of water used to sell paddleboat rides and store many metric tonnes of duck crap.

and there spread out before me were dozens upon dozens of canopies, tents and booths. the annual word on the street festival is a freakin' orgy of books and i was there on time. it looked like a renaissance faire for nerds who can't sew. after wandering mindlessly for a few moments i located the check-in point and got my laminate and itinerary package. i love laminates. i want my life to be an endless succession of all access passes. look at me, i'm important...i have a plasticard on a string necklace. ah, the good life.

i found my tent and checked in with the tech crew and discovered that we were going with wireless headset mics. jolly good i said but not for me. as (hahaha) facilitator of the authors tent i'd be on and off stage all day and i wasn't about to be farting around with headsets and batteries. sometimes i just get caught in the most ironic situations. there i were with a clipboard herding authors on and off stage, making introductions and generally acting as host and emcee, holy crap, i was facilitating. anyway, i think of myself as something of a vulgarian, a potty mouthed surrealist. it would be fair to say that i am not the best at editing what comes out of my mouth. the power to vituperate is naturally enhanced when amplified. and so i stood upon a stage before the assembled audience and dignitaries biting my tongue as i tried to suppress all of the jokes that swam through my mind as i introduced the mayor.

however, i did not fail in my mission to fuck with beings of power. as we prepared to mount the stage, the mayor asked me if there was anything he should do? i thought for a second and then pointed at the ground about four feet from where he stood and said, "stand there". he moved a few steps and i said, "perfect". he gave me a baby kissing smile and seemed happy enough. i got on the mic and introduced him, a local literacy worker and our star attraction, jane urquhart. all in all a very successful event. a turn out in the thousands to look at books and hear authors, no rain and i even get paid.

this must be some arcane sign of age, in the last while i've been treated with respect, taken seriously. it frightens me. as an artistician working in this region for, oh, a couple decades, i'd gotten pretty comfie as a marginalized creature. sitting out by the scorn heap at night, whittling and spitting and cussing. but lately i get invited to things and sit on panels and drink complimentary bottled water as people listen to my opinions and frankly i want it to stop. if i wasn't me, i wouldn't take my advice. hell, i know me and i iknow how cock-eyed most of my notions are. how the hell did i end up with peers in the cultural community? it all makes me anxious. i didn't even notice it happening, i is co-opted. next thing you know i'll develop real assets and a retirement plan. oh oh must unbehave myself.

surely a good dose of train wreckage will help and that should arrive on wednesday as i head to the next city over, guelph. there in celebration of international music day i will join a posse of other singer songwriters at the woolwich arms for a musical free for all. i look forward to the sound of a wanker* of guitars chopping away at songs that the players haven't heard.

all right that's it. i've stopped being interesting now. go bye-bye.

* gaggle of geese, pride of lions, wanker of guitarists

was ist das journal?

Fri, 19 Sep 2003 01:44:19 GMT

i'm joining the late 20th century!
look at me i'm bloggering. somehow i'm not sure that my trips to and from work are worth recording and for the most part, my daily subroutines are good like dishes. whatever then shall i plop on this screen? quizzez! or perhaps not. i ain't kissing any girls lately so there won't be much steam for the voyeurs among you. perhaps all i can offer to the journal is a twisted notion or two. perhaps reconnect with some friends and get some quality sedimentary time in with my sleek new leather chair. yeah, that's the good life, sitting down. all those folks putting their lives on the line so we can sit down, gets you right there don't it. i suppose i could post recipes. internet food porn. yeah baby, use the parchment, mmm, its so stiff, ooh that's right baby get some butter on it. yeah that's right, now spread it all over the pan, mmm, rub it up against the very edges of the tin, yes lover yes, give me your batter, oh you make cake so good! hmm, maybe that isn't the idea, scripting tales to temp the gravitationally enhanced. ah well, i'm sure i can think of something to screed into the ether and in the mean time there's a world of emoticons to explore.....

Fri, 19 Sep 2003 01:16:48 GMT

lazlopink's Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level: 6
Average number of words per sentence:	10.05
Average number of syllables per word:	1.48
Total words in sample:	221
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addled klonker seeks dormouse

Thu, 18 Sep 2003 02:05:45 GMT

fer de lance bonk skipped two stones, under the skirts of the mary bridge. cinder columns hung with sputter lights and crawlies. the thick green water swallowed the flat stones, sucked them out of the air. nothing aches like gravity. every joint, every tendon, the very slender bones distorting under constant pressure. get me out of this mud. the reek, the filth, the disturbing subvocal murmur of every blinker, all the time. chins lowered and jaws gnawing away at glottal stops, lips pursing with every oh. bio-cellular networks, i am my phone. blinkers claimed it makes best next thing to telepathic, think a person up and start sub. you're never lost and you're never alone. big good is that? maybe never at peace and never private is too rude a bargain. job job. two more days. two more days. then maybe never again. leave earth's influence and sing the long math between worlds. now is only kissing the formals before getting back. that was clutch, monolithic was nearly synch to pull the first runs on the solar forge. let's make a bubble.